


Salt flats

by D_writes



Category: Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020)
Genre: As per usual they are dumb af, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:53:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24472348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D_writes/pseuds/D_writes
Summary: Helena takes too long to realise she's in love with Dinah, who's already moved on and dating someone else.Or has she?
Relationships: Helena Bertinelli/Dinah Lance
Comments: 24
Kudos: 186





	Salt flats

Helena had a conflicted relationship with her memory. 

Her short term memory was impeccable. She was used to storing small details away in case they’d become relevant for her mission. She remembered names, faces, outfits, scents. She didn’t have a photographic memory, it didn’t come naturally to her. She’d been trained into it _._

Helena liked it and hated it. It was a useful skill, sure, but she couldn’t remember a time when she wasn’t constantly alert, eyes perpetually scanning her surroundings, brain filing all sorts of information into neat boxes for later use. She categorised people and places by danger level and discarded any useless detail.

That level of vigilance made her particularly wary of what she shared. Knowledge is power, they’d told her, so she made sure people knew as little as possible about her. It was safe, she kept repeating herself, if a little lonely.

Her long term memory was a mystery. 

There was a before and an after. The moment in between was the day her family had been massacred in front of her eyes. Helena never cared much about psychology but even she could understand such a traumatic event must have had some type of repercussion on her brain. 

What she knew was that everything before that moment had become washed out and out of reach. If she pushed herself, she could still see her father's silhouette against a blinding white light, or hear her mother’s distorted voice. She could still put together fragments of a dialogue; her little brother learning how to ride a bike - _attento… bravo, cosi… spingi bene, non fermarti… -_ her father fighting with her uncle - _non possiamo… duecentomila sono troppi… -_ her mother singing an old song - _sono… sono come tu mi vuoi..._

Had she loved them? She knew the answer was yes, it had to be yes. She had spent years training because she loved them. She had carried out her revenge because she loved them. The answer, however, had become theoretical. She couldn’t feel it, she didn’t quite know how it was supposed to feel anymore. 

The period after that day wasn’t much sharper. She could summon the memory of her trip to Sicily, but she couldn’t remember the pain, the tiredness, the fear she knew she had felt. Her fifteen years in Campofiorito were a blur. Had she really tasted her own blood in her mouth when Massimo punched her to the ground for the first time? Had she felt any joy when her bolts finally started hitting the targets with ruthless accuracy? By the time she’d left, her heart had turned into one of those salt flats Luca took her to see, just outside Trapani. 

“Nothing grows here,” he had explained, “so the salt workers dig these shallow pits and flood them with seawater. The water evaporates, the salt stays. Takes a while, but you gotta be patient, picciridda.” 

* * *

“You got any hot sauce?” Dinah asked, mouth full of fries and a hot wing in her hand.

“Uuh, yeah, it's over there,” Helena pointed at the collection of spices and herbs on the countertop as she pulled a beer out of the fridge. 

It had taken a while for her to finally feel comfortable having people over. She hadn’t really had a choice, to be honest. Dinah’s playful insistence wasn’t something she was equipped to politely refuse, so she’d refused rudely - and that had been a problem. Helena was still learning not to snap and Dinah was still learning not to take it personally. That was a rough week she still remembers a year later.

Renee hadn’t been insistent as much as forceful. Helena came home to find her sitting on her sofa and almost shot her on the spot. The cop had not been intimidated one bit. Instead, she stood up, pointed a finger, and instructed her on what to do. “You’re gonna apologise, you’re gonna make some lasagna or whatever it is you people eat, and you’re gonna have us over for dinner. End of discussion.” “But-” “End. Of. Discussion, Bertinelli. We’re a team and you fucked up.”

Helena knew better than to argue. She had to pick her battles. Plus, Montoya was right. Even Helena could see she had been unreasonably rude to Dinah. 

“Come on, you’re standing, get if for me,” Dinah commented, swinging the chicken wing in the general direction of the condiments. “Please,” she added with a cheeky smile.

Helena twisted the cap of her beer bottle and took a swig, then patiently complied. 

Things had changed. She had changed.

It wasn’t a bad change, she had to admit. There were times when she remembered her old self, the anger-filled twenty-something who’d rather smash the hot sauce bottle to the ground than be bossed around like that. That girl was lonely and permanently enraged. Empty. It wasn’t a bad change at all.

It was a pretty unremarkable moment, Dinah holding out a hand to get the bottle, hastily swallowing the mouthful of fries to offer her an absent-minded “thanks, killer.” Helena’s lips quirking up on one side, her small nod, her faint “no problem” - they weren’t new things anymore. 

They had become habits.

Helena felt the ground shaking when her heart beat a little louder and she realised it was still alive.

* * *

“I’m heading out, thanks for dinner,” Dinah said hurriedly, checking the time, “Damn, I’m gonna be late.”

“See you tomorrow,” Helena waved her off, throwing away the bones she left on the plate.

“Sorry, I’ll clean up next time.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll do the washing up,” Montoya reassured her, “have fun.”

Dinah gave her a grateful look. She didn’t like leaving all the work to Helena. They ended up having dinner at her place more often than not, and Helena insisted on paying for food. The minimum she could do was to help with the cleaning, but she’d lost track of time and chances were Angela was already waiting for her.

_Dinah, 8:24 pm “Stuck in traffic, sorry. There in twenty.”_

Luckily, it wasn’t a date. They were meeting some of Angela’s work friends at a gallery. Dinah liked going to art galleries and meeting regular people. Soft music, craft beer, some conversation about Karen from finance and her pettiness or whatever. It was calm and mildly funny and, most of all, normal. 

“At least you’re putting yourself out there,” Montoya had said when she matched with Angela on OK Cupid. She’d given her a knowing look and Dinah understood two things. First and foremost, Renee cared enough about her to approve of her going back to dating even though it was a risk for the Birds. The second thing was that she _knew._ She knew she’d been harbouring unrequited feelings and she saw how hard she was trying to get over them. 

“I don’t know, I don't have a good feeling about this,” Dinah had replied, putting on her leather jacket and fixing her lipstick with her thumb.

“Give it a go, you never know.” 

Renee patted her on the shoulder and gave her a look Dinah would call motherly if it wasn’t on Montoya’s face. Helena kept throwing knives at something and yelled “good luck” from the other side of the room.

Dinah was wrong. 

The date was nothing short of perfect. Angela was smart, funny and elegant in a way she almost envied. It was subtle and effortless. Natural. Most of all, Angela was well adjusted in a way Dinah was comfortable with. She was educated, but not as condescending as Harley. Financially comfortable, but not obscenely rich as Helena. Career driven, but not a workaholic like Renee. She was what Dinah could have become had she not lost her mother too young, had she had a bit more luck once or twice in her life.

Angela was a glimpse of what could have been.

She met her at a bar downtown, tasteful but not too hip nor snobby. Just right. The music was good, the drinks were reasonably priced for the amount of booze in them. They fell into an easy conversation about growing up in the same part of town, having a black mother and losing her somehow. Angela’s mother wasn't dead, but she’d cut her off when she came out, and Dinah wasn’t quite sure who had it worse. That led into a deeper conversation that somehow ended in Dinah’s bed, which hadn’t seen a guest in a long time. 

Three months later they were still dating.

Angela was good for her. She brought a balance Dinah desperately needed, so Dinah showed up at the gallery fashionably late, as Angela put it, and apologised a bit too much. She knew most of the people by then, so she could politely ask for an update on something she didn’t care much about. The conversation wasn’t exciting but it was easy. She just needed to listen. No one asked her much. It was her fault, she’d been evasive and they were too polite to point it out. They probably thought she was a little shy, which… she wasn’t, not by a landslide, but it worked for her. So she smiled and sipped her hoppy beer, nodding along to whatever Julie was talking about.

* * *

“Did you enjoy the exhibition?” Angela asked as they walked arm in arm along the riverside.

“I did,” Dinah said. Truly, she did, “and the space is really cool too.”

“Used to be a wool processing plant.”

Dinah hummed, smiling warmly to her.

“What?” Angela asked.

“I like that you have a little fun fact about everything,” Dinah replied.

“Except you.”

Dinah rolled her eyes and took a deep breath. She didn’t like where that was going.

“We talked about this.”

“We did… three months ago, when I thought it’d be a one-night thing.”

Dinah didn’t say anything, hoping she would just drop it. They kept walking in silence for a few minutes, then Angela stopped and took both Dinah’s hands in hers.

“Look, I like you. A lot. But it’s getting to a point where I want to know about you - _actually_ know about you. Meet your friends, see where you work. Feeling like you’re letting me in. If that’s not what you want, I understand but… I need to start thinking if this is going somewhere or not, you understand?”

Dinah took a moment to process her words. She was right and she knew it. Dinah had told her right away there were parts of her life she couldn't share with her and Angela had been respectful of that, but Dinah had been so private she barely talked about anything of substance.

“I do,” Dinah replied. She looked down at her hands and squeezed them gently. “I like you a lot too,” she said with a hint of embarrassment at how childish the words sounded, “and I’m willing to try. For real. But you have to give me a bit of time to figure things out, ok?”

“Alright, baby steps.” 

Angela rested their forehead together and Dinah quickly caught her lips with hers. Maybe this could work.

* * *

Helena Bertinelli was _something._ That’s the first thing Dinah thought when Renee outed her as the heir of an infamous mob family back at the Booby Trap. Maybe it was the ridiculously oversized hood, the rubber coat, the odd choice of weapon. Maybe it was the ease with which she stuck a bolt in Szasz's throat. It was definitely the strain in her voice when she spoke for the first time, the touch of vulnerability that transpired from her frustration. She found it oddly endearing.

From there, it was all downhill. 

She could tell from the first look that Helena was strong, skilled and incredibly attractive. Harley saw that too, Dinah could see her swooning out of the corner of her eyes when they came down the slide. What she didn’t know is how thoughtful and generous she could be. She was as smooth with her hands as she was clumsy with her words, so she let her actions speak for her. When the Birds of Prey were born, it had been Helena who took care of everything. Training area, offices, weapons, laptops - everything that didn’t involve talking to people. Bureaucracy was left to Renee, so Dinah fell into the role of… community manager, as Harley put it. She was the one pushing them to spend time together outside of their crime-fighting activities. Team bonding, one would call it. She pushed for drinks and dinners and tried to get the two women - each one emotionally stunted in her own way - to open up a bit. 

Initially, Helena did not react well to it, but Montoya stepped in and made it work.

Most of the time, it took a few beers to get Helena to loosen up. Dinah didn't mind when that happened. She kept telling herself it had nothing to do with the fact the Tipsy Helena had an adorable intonation in her voice, just the hint of an accent. Tipsy Helena didn’t flinch when she rested a hand on her forearm and didn’t snap when she asked a personal question. Tipsy Helena frowned a lot and found her funny. But Dinah knew she was lying to herself.

So one night, Dinah mustered her courage and asked her out.

“Hey so… I was thinking, maybe we could go out for a drink,” she paused when Helena looked up from the bolt she was inspecting, “just you and me?”

Helena frowned and looked down again, then simply said: “I don't think that would be a good idea.”

Dinah bit the inside of her cheek, trying to hide her disappointment. But it did hurt. It hurt more than she thought it would.

“Right. Ok. I… yeah, I’ll see you around then.” 

Helena nodded and went back to her crossbow.

God that was embarrassing. It was even a curve, it was a straight-up rejection. It took all of Dinah’s willpower not to run out of the room, but she did power walk to her car. She went for a long ride, trying to tell herself that it was better that way. It was better to try her luck and find out early on than pine indefinitely for her teammate.

Now she just needed to get over it. 

* * *

It didn't get much more clueless than Helena Bertinelli, Montoya thought. Dinah had gone MIA for a few days, mentioned a friend out of state she was visiting. Renee thought she’d keep up the tradition of their Thursday drinks, so they were having a beer in a dimly lit pub, but damn was it hard to hold a conversation with the assassin. 

“I’m sorry, I suck at this,” Helena said out of the blue, without quite looking at her.

“No shit” Renee replied, taking another sip.

“I told Dinah it was a bad idea to go for a drink just with me. I’m bad at this social stuff.”

Renee gave her a long, inquisitive look, then laughed and mumbled something along the line of _I didn’t think she had it in her._ She downed her drink, then offered to buy another round. Maybe she’d dodged a bullet there. Having her two teammates dating could easily turn into a mess. 

She hadn’t left Helena alone for a minute when a woman walked up to their table and started to chat to her. 

Renee felt sorry for her, but not sorry enough to step in and explain how absolutely socially inept her friend was. She waited at the bar and watched her flirt, only to be met by a cold, confused glare. Helena said something, the woman stepped back and crossed her arms. She couldn’t hear their conversation, but by the way the woman stomped past Renee muttering “Asshole” under her breath, she figured Helena had said something rude - again. God, the girl was a walking trainwreck.

Yeah, maybe they’d all dodged a bullet.

* * *

Dinah was doing pretty well at getting over it. She took some time off and when she came back, she had more clarity and a plan. No more drinks, no more dinners. It shouldn’t be too hard, she figured, since she was the one making an effort to make them happen.

_Wrong._

“Do you eat peanuts?” Helena asked. The lack of context always made Renee overly frustrated. They were putting together some new targets Helena had got for practice, what did that have to do with peanuts?

“Peanuts?”

“I’m thinking to make pad thai tonight,” Helena explained, tightening a particularly stubborn screw.

Dinah’s head perked up, realising that Helena had assumed they were having dinner at hers. It was too late to cancel.

“Yeah, I eat peanuts” Montoya replied. 

“Dinah?”

“...sure.”

So they had dinner at Helena’s. It was nice, Dinah had to admit, especially since the alternative was to eat leftovers on her sofa in front of the TV. 

“Your condiment cabinet is getting exotic,” Dinah commented, picking up a bottle of fish sauce.

“I’m trying out new recipes,” Helena replied, checking the instructions on her phone. She was methodic: she had lined up and weighed all the ingredients, even bought a wok. 

“Really?”

“Keeps my mind busy.”

Dinah took a sip from her beer and watched her heating up some oil then tossing bean sprouts and shrimps in the pan. Helena's hands moved confidently, shaking the pan and mixing the ingredients with a spatula. Dinah liked to watch them.

Dinah liked to watch them a bit too much. She got lost following their movements, so when Helena spoke again it startled her. 

“...organising this.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Dinah had only caught the tail of her sentence.

“I said…” Helena took a deep breath as if repeating what she had just said took great effort, “thank you for organising this. It gives me something to do. And I know I’m… hard to be around, so, thank you.”

Dinah looked at her, but Helena’s eyes were fixed on the pan.

“We missed you last week,” Helena added, cracking a couple of eggs into the mix. 

It was a lot, coming from Helena. Her voice was barely audible over the sizzling sound, but it hit Dinah just the same. She felt a tug in her chest, the feelings she was trying so hard to push down bubbling inside her, threatening to pour out again. 

“No problem,” she replied, forcing a smile. 

Helena looked up and gave her a tight-lipped grin. It was awkward, as if she had read about smiling once in a book and was trying to replicate it. 

It was progress, though, and it came with great effort on Helena’s part. Dinah appreciated it. 

* * *

Progress was slow. For each step forward, Helena took two backward. She would disappear for days at a time, break things in a fit of rage, pick random fights in a bar and punch way too hard. But then she’d say things like “I’m glad you made me stay, I don’t know how much worse I would be coping without you,” and it would always catch Dinah off guard. It’d always be out of the blue, when it was only the two of them.

Which was starting to happen more often, since Montoya had taken to randomly changing her dinner plans. 

“Fucking Montoya, cancelling last minute like that,” Dinah scoffed the first time it happened.

“You don’t have to stay,” Helena said apologetically. 

“No, that’s not… come on, you’ve already cooked.”

“I can eat leftovers tomorrow,” Helena shrugged. 

“Hey, don’t be selfish!” Dinah gently slapped her arm, “that smells really good, by the way.”

Helena smiled. A real, genuine smile. She dropped her head immediately to hide it, but Dinah caught it. Progress was slow but God did it feel good. 

During dinner, they talked. Dinah discovered a way to get Helena to chat was to ask about her projects. She had a few. Dinah knew about cooking. Making a full motorbike out of scraps she found around town, she’d have expected. She had not anticipated bookbinding. 

“It’s actually pretty relaxing. Requires focus and it’s repetitive…”

“You, relaxed?” Dinah teased.

“I can relax!” Helena protested. Dinah laughed and Helena briefly laughed with her. 

“I haven’t picked a fight in three weeks,” she said then, suddenly serious, “I mean, outside of our job. I’m getting better.”

Dinah laughter, that was still lingering on her lips, faded softly.

“I know,” she said, “I noticed.”

Helena’s eyebrows shot up. She seemed surprised Dinah had paid attention to that. Dinah reached across the table and instinctively put a hand on her forearm, thinking Helena must have been tipsy, because she didn’t flinch. 

“I’m proud of you.”

Helena looked down at her hand for a second, then cleared her throat and pulled away.

“I made panna cotta,” she said a little stiffly.

Progress was slow, Dinah didn’t know if she could wait.

* * *

Helena couldn’t tell when it started happening. Could be a year earlier, when they all met. Or maybe it was a bit later, when they had their first dinner together. 

Her memory had started to shift. 

She figured it was normal that it took her so long to realise. Such is the nature of memory: it only reveals itself _later._

Old memories would always appear in flashes to her, at random moments. She had no idea what triggered them. Could be a scent, a detail she saw, or just the time of the day. She hadn’t found a pattern yet. They were always short and sharp, like a bee sting, and the feeling they left lingered for a while.

The drive up to Massimo’s villa. A plate of aubergines. The pattern of the tiles in the old kitchen. They were disconnected and repetitive. Irrelevant. Glimpses of her old life, a life she just wanted to forget. She felt like they were perpetually looping in her brain and would suddenly emerge at times. Perhaps they were acting as a shield, hiding more painful memories. Helena couldn’t be sure.

They weren’t pleasant memories. Once she’d moved back to Gotham, Helena had realised how much she’d loathed living in Sicily. She hated how Massimo and Luca screamed at each other over nothing. How the maid would give a pitiful look to her wardrobe and shake her head. The way the lady at the cafe would poke fun at her for being a tomboy.

“ _Sei proprio un maschiaccio”_ she would comment snarkily. 

Helena felt ashamed of the way people looked at her with a mixture of pity and disgust. _Why can’t you just be like everybody else?_ Their eyes seemed to ask her, _Don’t you want people to like you?_

In a small town like that, there was only one way to be a woman and Helena was failing at it. She had no curves and shoulders too broad for her waist, skinny legs and untamed hair. She wore boy’s clothes except for church, when Massimo forced her to wear a dress. That felt even worse. What irritated her the most was how people complimented her efforts and told her “Look at you! Don’t you like it better when you look like a lady?” Her body felt awkward and constrained, constantly out of place. 

Life in Sicily was relatively peaceful, each day identical to the next. There were no tragedies, no massacres. Helena should have been happy, she should have tried to fit in, make some friends. But she couldn’t, so she focussed on her goal. 

That’s why, she figured, all her memories of that period blended into each other, leaving nothing but a nauseous feeling in her throat and a deep-rooted self-loathing she couldn’t fully erase. She had always fought with her memory, sometimes hoping she could just wipe it all away. 

But when Dinah took the hot sauce bottle from her hand and smiled, Helena realised something unexpected.

_I want to remember this moment._

* * *

Angela was good for Dinah. Helena could see that. Still, she didn't like change that much and this was a big one. For the past year, it had been only the three of them. Harley would drop by from time to time, wreaking havoc in their routines, then disappear as fast as she’d come. But for the most part, Helena’s life revolved around the Birds of Prey and a few hobbies she picked along the way. 

“You want _us_ to meet your girlfriend?” Montoya asked, skeptical. Helena just stared blankly at her.

“I don’t have any other friend,” Dinah admitted, her tone implying that she wasn’t thrilled at the idea either. “It’s just a couple of hours, I promised I was gonna introduce her to _someone._ Harley is gonna be there too.”

It made Helena feel better. With Renee and Harley, she wouldn’t have to talk much.

“Ladies! Aren’t you excited? Girls' night out!” Harley said, appearing out of thin air. 

“When?” Helena asked.

“Tomorrow.”

* * *

Tomorrow was soon, in fact, tomorrow had already come and Helena was not particularly ready. She almost considered taking a page from Renee’s book and cancelled. But she didn’t. She wouldn't do that to Dinah. 

Dinah had stuck around when no one else would. If Helena wasn’t lying face down on her sofa, too drunk to move, it was because of Dinah. The days after she killed Szasz were a blur, but she remembers whiskey was the thing that made the hours go by. She was on a three-day bender when Dinah texted her.

 _Black Canary, 11:23 am “Hey killer, what’s up?”  
_ _Black Canary, 11:23 am “Montoya wants to meet, you up for it?”  
_ _Black Canary, 11:23 am “Saturday 3pm at the abandoned funfair.”  
_ _Black Canary, 11:45 am “Hope to see you there ;)”_

Helena didn’t know why that was enough to pull her out of her spiralling. She looked at herself in the mirror and saw a person she couldn’t recognise. She looked tired, weak. She felt disgusting. She yelled and punched the mirror, then took a shower. She rinsed the blood from her knuckles, drank two glasses of water, and went to sleep. 

On Saturday, she met them at the Booby Trap. The Birds of Prey were born.

“So how do you guys know each other?” Angela asked when Renee came back with drinks.

“Dinah helped me out on an investigation once,” Renee said, vaguely.

“You’re a cop?”

“Was. Private detective now.”

Helena was grateful Renee had planned for that question and hoped she could keep Angela’s attention for a while. Thankfully, Montoya was a good liar and came up with enough details to make that story believable. 

The secret to a good lie, Montoya had told her once, is to make it as close as possible to the truth.

“What about you? How did you meet Dinah?” Angela had turned to Helena. 

“I saw her singing at a club once. Then we started chatting,” she said. It was the closest she could get to the truth. Dinah’s eyes grew and Helena understood that’s not what she was expecting to hear.

“Oh, I haven’t had the chance to hear her sing yet, can you believe? Also, congratulations on getting this one to chat,” Angela said, earning a confused look.

“Dinah’s pretty chatty,” Helena commented offhandedly.

“Sure is compared to you,” Renee came to the rescue, having noticed Dinah’s slightly panicked look. Helena shut down again, feeling she had done something wrong but unsure of what. Finally, Harley showed up and Helena had never been more grateful for her chaotic energy. 

She managed to sip her beer in silence for most of the evening, but eventually, Angela made it to the seat next to her. 

“So you really are a quiet one huh?” Angela asked her, “no wonder you two get along.”

Helena nodded, still confused, but by then she knew better than to contradict her. 

“Are you single by any chance?” Angela’s attention was alternating between Helena and Dinah “Honey, do you think Naomi is her type? I have one or two friends who would definitely like to be taken out on a date by you.”

Helena shifted on her seat, feeling slightly uncomfortable. Dinah felt the urge to say something to divert Angela’s attention to something else but Helena replied before she could.

“I’m not the kind of person who should... be with people.” 

Dinah felt her heart sink. Luckily Renee and Harley were arguing about something and missed the whole exchange.

“Nonsense!” Angela argued, “Real talk here, girl. You look good - girls would queue up to give you their number if we were in the right bar. Come on, you’ve had girlfriends before, what are you, twenty four?” 

“Twenty seven” Helena mumbled.

Dinah realised Angela was on her third glass of wine. She could get a little loud and overly enthusiastic when she was tipsy. Dinah could see Helena clasping her bottle in her hand, trying to stay calm.

“Babe, why don’t we go for a smoke?” she proposed. Angela clapped her hands once and let out an eager “yes”, then started rummaging in her purse to look for cigarettes. 

Dinah mouthed a _sorry_ , Helena shrugged as to say: _no worries._ When she finally managed to drag Angela out of her seat, Dinah gave Helena her a quick wink that meant _I got you._

“She _is_ into girls, right?” Angela checked once they made it out, “my gaydar never fails but she looked a little weirded out.”

“Helena's a little private about these things,” Dinah replied, taking a drag from her cigarette.

“And I thought you were quiet.”

Dinah looked down and smiled coyly. She was good at it. She had practised her shy demeanour with Roman for years. 

“I’m off,” a voice interrupted them. It was Helena. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Angela.”

By the way she enunciated each word, Dinah knew she’d been practising the sentence in her head.

“What? Come on! We’re going dancing,” Angela argued.

“I have to wake up early tomorrow.” 

Helena wasn’t a good liar, but Angela couldn't tell the difference, not like Dinah could. She put on her helmet and Dinah imagined the relief she felt behind her dark visor. Helena waved at them from her bike before disappearing into the night.

* * *

“That Helena’s a little too mopey for my taste,” Angela commented offhandedly as they queued for the club.

“She’s had some tough times.” Dinah didn’t want to share too much about Helena’s story, but she felt she deserved to be defended.

“Yeah, we all did, didn’t we?” Angela scoffed.

Dinah untangled her arm from hers to light up a cigarette.

“Not like her,” she mumbled. 

“Didn’t you say she’s loaded? White people be whining for nothing. Can I have one?”

Angela pointed at the packet Dinah was about to put back in her purse and didn’t notice the glare that came from her girlfriend. 

“Sure” Dinah muttered, then gave a second look at her bag. “Shit!”

“What’s up?”

“I left my phone at the bar.”

“Oh no, babe, let’s go back.”

“No, you can stay. Naomi and Rita are already in, aren’t they?”

“Yes, but-”

“We’re almost at the entrance, no point getting both out of the line.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll be back, no worries.”

* * *

_Helena, 1:24 am “What are you doing here?”_

_Black Canary, 1:24 am “How do you know?”_

_Helena, 1:24 am “Heard your car”_

_Black Canary, 1:25 am “Can I come up?”_

_Helena, 1:27 am “Sure.”_

“I thought you were going dancing,” Helena commented once Dinah made it through the door.

“I thought you were going to bed early,” Dinah replied. Helena shrugged and got two beers from her fridge. She opened them and offered one to Dinah.

“You didn’t drink too much, did you?” Dinah gave her a questioning look, so Helena elaborated, “You’re driving.”

“No, just had a glass of wine.” 

“Ok.”

It was odd, having Dinah over so late. Helena leaned against her table and raised her eyebrows questioningly.

“I just wanted to check on you. You seemed a little off.”

“More than usual?” 

Dinah let out a short laugh. Helena smiled. She liked to make Dinah laugh. She still wasn’t quite sure how to get there, but she cherished it when it happened. She stored that memory for later.

“I thought maybe Angela made you uncomfortable.”

“I didn’t know what to say, she caught me off guard.”

Dinah hummed in agreement, then said: “She’s right, though, you know that, right? What you said was nonsense.” She tried to sound casual, balancing what Helena needed to hear with the things she needed to hide. The look on Helena’s eyes told her she needed to elaborate. “You’re not… you deserve to be with someone. If you want to, that is. You’re not _undesirable_ , not in the least.”

Dinah bit her tongue, feeling that maybe she’d said too much.

“It’s complicated,” Helena replied, vaguely.

“Is it though?”

“Dinah, you know me - better than anyone else. No one’s going to stick around long enough to get past my… weirdness.”

 _I did_ , Dinah wanted to say, _I’m here._ She didn’t.

“Angela’s cool, I like her,” Helena changed the topic.

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“And you’re a very good one.”

Dinah didn’t expect that. 

“I’m sorry, it’s just… you didn’t seem like yourself tonight,” Helena continued, “you were…”

“Quiet?”

“Careful. Controlled.” Helena tried to explain, “like you were afraid to set something off. You’re never like that, not even with me. And I’m pretty easy to set off.”

Dinah let out an amused huff and nodded along. 

“Your phone’s ringing,” Helena pointed at Dinah’s purse, hearing a faint buzzing coming from it. Dinah checked it and put it back.

“I told Angela I lost it,” she explained when Helena gave her another confused look.

“Liar,” Helena repeated, raising her eyebrows and pointing a finger.

“Fuck off,” Dinah scoffed, but there was a smile on her face.

The silence they fell into was comfortable. Dinah realised how at ease Helena was compared to the bar. Her eyes fell on the table and the sheets of paper and tools scattered on it.

“Japanese binding,” Helena explained.

Dinah walked closer and picked up the notebook she was making, inspecting it carefully. Helena disappeared for a moment and came back with three completed ones.

“I used a small hole puncher for this one, but the holes were too big. I also didn’t wax the thread so it broke,” she said, showing a small knot on the back of the notebook she was holding.

Helena had taken to explain her new hobby to Dinah and it had become a habit. She had already shown her a stab binding and a simple French binding for three booklets.

“These are really nice,” Dinah commented, running a finger over the thread.

“You can have them if you want. I don’t really know what to do with them,” Helena shrugged.

“Maybe I’ll keep this one,” Dinah picked the smallest one, bound with some thin twine.

“This one is better,” Helena picked a slightly bigger one. The paper was off white, with a bright yellow cover and matching waxed thread. The binding was tighter, even Dinah could see that, and the pages had been trimmed evenly. Helena moved closer and explained how the embossing she did on each page with her bone folder made it easier open. “Take both.”

“Thank you,” Dinah said. Her beer was over and she had no reasons to stay, apart from the fact that she didn’t want to leave. She felt like Helena wasn’t pushing her either.

“Another beer?” Helena asked.

“I’m driving, remember?”

“You don’t have to leave.”

Helena had said that with an ease that took both by surprise. 

“You can’t just say that, Helena,” Dinah breathed out, trying to keep her voice steady, “not now.”

Helena stepped back, rubbing her fingertips on her forehead. She felt a little dizzy, the beers she had after she came home starting to hit.

“I’m sorry, it’s late. That was stupid.”

“You know that’s not the problem.” 

There was a hint of irritation in Dinah’s voice. Helena clenched her jaw, feeling caught.

“Oh, I… mh, I didn’t think you knew.”

Dinah gave her a confused look.

“Look, I do have feelings for you but I didn’t mean it like that, I swear, it’s just… I like when you’re around, you always listen and you make me want to remember things.”

 _Whoa whoa whoa wait a goddamn minute,_ Dinah thought to herself.

“You have feelings for me?” she repeated, her head spinning.

“It doesn’t matter. Maybe you should go.” 

“Yeah, maybe I should.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I have a girlfriend, Helena.”

“I said I was sorry!” Her voice was breaking a little. 

Dinah grabbed her stuff in a haste, her heart pumping in her chest. She felt angry. She felt sad, too, but mainly she felt absolutely furious. Helena had no right to say that, not now, not after a whole year. Not when she was trying to build something with Angela. 

She left the apartment slamming the door, Helena sat down and held her head between her palms. She could hear Dinah’s heels clicking down the staircase getting fainter. She wished she couldn’t tell them apart from all the others, but she always knew. She knew the sound of Dinah’s car brakes, the pace of her footsteps, the way she rhythmically patted her hand on the railing. 

She thought her mind must have been playing tricks on her because she heard the same steps getting closer again. She lifted her head and instinctively walked to the door. _I must be drunk_ , she thought when she reached for the handle and pulled the door open, expecting to find the hallway empty.

 _I must be really drunk,_ she thought when Dinah’s hands reached for her face and pulled her in an angry kiss, _I must be hallucinating._

Dinah pushed her back inside the apartment and kissed her again.

“Dinah,” Helena called.

“Shut up,” Dinah ordered. She’d been waiting too long for this and she wasn’t done yet. 

Her hands moved to Helena’s hair and the back of her head, then her arms hooped around her neck, hugging her loosely. Her kisses, which had started desperate and frantic, became slower, softer, until she tasted salt in her mouth and realised she’d been crying.

When they parted, Helena’s eyes moved erratically over her features, wide and confused. Her hands had found a place to rest on Dinah’s hips and were holding tightly, anchoring her. 

Dinah sniffled softly and wiped her cheek against her shoulder.

“You have feelings for me,” she stated. It wasn’t a question, but Helena nodded anyway. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

Helena swallowed and looked down. “I didn’t think you’d want me.”

“Helena, I literally asked you out on a date.”

“No, you didn’t,” Helena scoffed, “You did? When?”

“Are you fucking kidding me,” she muttered, rolling her eyes, “Last year. Couple of months after we met? I asked you to go out for a drink with me?”

Helena frowned, trying to remember. She did remember. She remembered Dinah leaving the room, then leaving town - she hadn’t like that - she remembered that awkward drink with Montoya and _I didn’t think she had it in her,_ and- 

“Oh.”

“Yeah, _oh_. You dumbass.”

Dinah pulled away slightly and wiped her face with both hands, checking if her mascara had left black marks. It didn’t, so she made a mental note to buy the same brand again. Helena didn’t move her hands, so Dinah leaned back in, wrapped her arms around her waist and rested her head on her shoulder.

They remained there for a while, in silence.

“Was that your first kiss?” Dinah asked.

She felt Helena’s body getting tense.

“Was that so obvious?”

Dinah laughed and wrapped her a bit tighter.

“No, that’s not… you were fine. Good. You were good. I just figured… you’ve never talked about anybody.”

“I’ve never kissed anyone before, I’ve never… felt like this before,” Helena admitted.

“Me neither,” Dinah replied, “I mean I kissed people before, but it never felt like this. Like I couldn’t get over them no matter how hard I tried.”

She heard Helena’s heart getting faster and felt her chest rising and falling under hers as she took a deep breath.

“Is your offer still valid?” 

“My offer?”

“Can I stay?”

* * *

Dinah’s grip around her waist was so desperate Helena thought she wouldn’t be able to make her leave if she wanted. Which she didn’t. She’d never wanted anything more than for Dinah to stay.

Helena’s throat closed around her _yes_ , which came out suffocated and unintelligible. Instead, she held her as tight as she could, burying her face in her hair. 

Dinah placed her lips on the exposed slope of her shoulder. It wasn’t a kiss as much as a way for their skin to touch, to be as close as possible. She took a deep breath and savoured the faint scent of saltwater of Helena’s body.

“You smell so good,” she said, “you know that?”

“Do I? No one’s ever told me that,” Helena replied, a little confused, then after a beat she added: “No one’s ever been this close, to be fair.”

“Kiss me again,” Dinah instructed. It sounded both like an order and a plea, and Helena obeyed without a second thought. This time, it felt calm - like waves lapping on a shore on a windless day, in an endless motion dictated by nature more than will. 

They had to part, eventually. It took a couple of attempts, the distance between them felt wrong each time they tried to pull away and they both felt the urge to make it right again. It wasn’t until an insistent buzzing sound filled the silence in the room that they managed to break apart.

“Your phone’s ringing again,” Helena pointed out. Dinah sighed and checked the time. It was past 3 am. Angela must be worried. 

She was surprised to find that she didn’t feel any type of sadness about her, just shallow guilt and a touch of dread at the thought of breaking up with her. She let the call end, then quickly texted _Just got my phone, too late to come to the club. Good night._ She turned her phone off and dropped it back in her purse: whatever the consequences of that, they could wait for another day.

* * *

Helena felt uneasy once Dinah stood a couple of feet away from her. Having her close also meant Dinah couldn’t fully see her. Now she felt exposed. Her shoulder slouched a little and she wrapped her arms around her stomach. She remembered how her body had always been too tall, too big, too harsh. 

“Hey,” Dinah called, noticing her discomfort, yet misplacing its cause, “I’m going to break up with Angela next time I meet her, I promise.”

Helena looked at her and nodded, but her smile didn’t hide her insecurity well enough. Dinah noticed.

“What is it?”

“Nothing, will we… will you want to sleep” she cleared her throat, feeling her words fading against her will, “with me?”

It wasn’t an invitation as much as a request for clarification. Dinah understood immediately that Helena was way out of her comfort zone and was putting herself fully in her hands.

“Next to you,” Dinah pointed out, picking up on the worry in her voice, “if that’s ok?”

The silence that followed was loaded with doubt. Dinah had never seen fear in Helena’s eyes before.

“I just want to be near you, we don’t have to do anything. But if you’re not ready I can sleep on your sofa, or go home. We can take it as slow as you need.”

Helena thought she didn’t like those alternatives much. 

“Stay,” she decided, “please.”

Dinah smiled as she took a step closer and pulled Helena’s arms away from her body, feeling a little resistance. She slid her fingers down her arms and when they found her hands, she took them gently, pulling her towards the bedroom.

Helena was so tense she looked like she was about to explode. 

“You got any pyjamas?” Dinah asked, “or do you sleep in a lacey nightgown?”

Helena laughed softly through her nose, then opened a drawer to reveal a few identical pairs of sweatpants and spaghetti strap tops. There was a hesitation after she handed her one set and Dinah got a hunch about what it may be.

“I’m going to get changed in the bathroom,” she said. The relief in Helena’s face confirmed her intuition was right. Helena was worried about being naked in front of her.

When she came back, she found that Helena hadn’t changed yet, but had waited for her turn to use the bathroom. It was clear she needed to be in control. She couldn’t risk Dinah coming back in the room while she wasn’t done changing. The proof was the door being locked behind her.

Dinah figured Helena used the left side of the bed since that was where the only nightstand was. She turned the main light off in favour of the small bedside lamp. The bed had been meticulously made and she slipped under the bedsheets managing to leave the other side perfectly tidy.

The dimmer light seemed to make Helena more at ease. She quickly joined Dinah and pulled the bedsheets up to her neck, laying rigidly on her back. 

As Dinah came closer, Helena turned the small light off. The yellow light of a streetlamp filtered through the half-closed blinds.

“I’m sorry,” Helena said, and neither of them was entirely sure about what.

“Why?”

“It’s just- you’re so beautiful and I’m... not.”

It surprised Dinah twice. First, she didn’t think Helena would care. But most of all, she couldn’t believe she didn’t realise she was the hottest damn thing in town.

“What are you talking about?” Dinah asked. Her eyes were adjusting to the darkness and she could make out Helena nervously biting on the skin of her thumb.

“Helena, I don’t know where that came from but you are so beautiful,” Dinah almost chuckled at the idea she had to explain that to her, because had she seen herself? 

Helena shook her head before turning her back to Dinah. Even if she couldn’t quite be seen, she felt safer that way. Dinah wrapped an arm around her stomach and pulled herself closer, flush against her. She placed a small kiss on the shell of her ear.

“One day you’ll see yourself the way I see you,” she promised, “until then, please trust me when I say you’re absolutely breathtaking, Helena Bertinelli.”

Helena sighed softly. The comfort of Dinah’s body against hers, the warmth emanating from her skin, the steadiness with which she held her helped her relax. She felt overwhelming tiredness coming over her. 

“Let’s sleep?” she whispered, tangling their fingers together.

“Let’s sleep” Dinah echoed softly.

* * *

Morning came and went. When Dinah woke up, it was almost noon. They hadn’t moved an inch. Dinah hummed lowly and immediately took a whiff of Helena’s skin. She still smelled as good as the night before. Dinah couldn’t get enough of it.

“Morning,” she heard before her eyes could fully adjust to the light coming through the window.

“How long have you been awake?” She asked sleepily.

“Couple of hours,” Helena replied.

“You could have gotten up,” she yawned, “or at least changed position.”

“Didn’t want to wake you up.”

Dinah rolled and dragged Helena with her. Once the assassin was one her back, Dinah propped herself up and looked at her.

“Hey little spoon,” she greeted once their eyes met.

“Hi.” 

Helena couldn’t quite sustain her gaze and looked away, flustered. Dinah took pity on her and laid on her chest. She shuffled until Helena moved the arm stuck under her body and wrapped it around her shoulder.

“That’s better,” she sighed.

Helena wasn’t quite sure about what to do, she wasn’ t familiar with the etiquette required in the situation, so she laid still. It wasn’t unpleasant. Quite the opposite. It was maybe the best she’d ever felt. Dinah’s body was soft and warm, its weight calming.

“You said something, last night,” Dinah said after a while, “you said I make you want to remember things.”

Helena hummed and nodded in confirmation.

“What does that mean?”

Helena took a moment to figure out how to explain what she meant. 

“Everything I remember is cold,” she began. “I know things have happened, but I can’t remember how they felt. It’s jarring and frustrating and I just want to forget everything. They remind me of a person I was and don't know anymore.”

She stopped for a moment when she felt Dinah’s hand gripping on the fabric of her top, then continued.

“But my memories of you... they’re warm. I look back and I still feel what I felt when they happened. If I had happy memories before, they've turned bitter and painful and I wish I could just erase all of them. But not with you. I want to hold on to those moments with you, I want to remember.”

Dinah didn’t know what to say in return. She wasn’t expecting something so soft and powerful to come out of Helena.

“Is this love?” Helena asked.

Dinah didn’t have an answer, so she just told her the truth.

“Only you can know that, but… God, I hope so.”

“What if it’s not? What if you waste your time with me, what if I ruin it? Things have been good so far, maybe they don't need to change. Maybe we can just-”

“I’m scared too,” Dinah revealed. She felt a huff coming out of Helena’s nose and she knew her assumption didn’t sit well with her. Helena didn’t like to admit to being scared. “Don’t pretend you're not. It’s ok.”

It was true. Helena was terrified.

“I can’t lose you, Dinah,” she breathed out.

“And I can’t go back to pretend I don’t love you. I tried, it didn’t work. So whether you want to give us a chance or not, things aren’t going back to the way they were before.”

Helena dropped her head back and took a deep breath. Dinah felt her trembling under her.

“Have you considered that maybe it’s not a bad thing?” Dinah propped herself up again to ran a finger on the bridge of her nose, on her cupid bow, on her lips. "That things may be changing for the better?" Helena finally looked at her. She felt wary, doubtful. Change had never been good for her.

But when Dinah gently pulled her down to kiss her, it all melted away. 

“I think it is,” Helena said when they parted.

“A bad thing?” Dinah asked worriedly.

“Love. I think this is love.”

Dinah smiled softly.

“Will you give it a chance?”

Helena felt that fear again, but it paled in comparison to the unbridled happiness filling her chest. _This_ , she thought, _is what's worth remembering._

“Yes.”

* * *

_Harvesting salt is backbreaking work. The sun scorches your skin and the water turns to steam beneath your feet. The most precious salt is delicate and beautiful, and maybe that’s why we call it_ fleur de sel, _flower of salt._

_Salt flats are too harsh for most plants and animals to survive, but something always blossoms for those who are willing to wait._

_Takes a while, but you gotta be patient, picciridda._

**Author's Note:**

> Taking a break from Young Blood because I had to get this one out.  
> Leave a comment if you enjoyed ^_^
> 
> Come say hi at das-gay.tumblr.com


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